


Sure

by banshee_in_the_dark



Series: Lazy Lover Series [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Making Love, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banshee_in_the_dark/pseuds/banshee_in_the_dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's their first official date and Lydia realizes something really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sure

**Author's Note:**

> So! Part seven, are you guys not tired of this yet? I'm not XD

Lydia smacks her lips and blows a kiss to the mirror. She spent twenty minutes doing her hair and makeup and the result was splendid if she does say so. She curled her long tresses in wide, lazy waves cascading down her back, pushed away from her face with some expertly placed bobby pins, giving her a sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look. She kept her makeup light and understated, just a bit of concealer, a hint of blush, mascara and clear lip gloss.

She has no idea what Stiles has planned for tonight. He asked her where she wanted to go of course, but instead of just telling him, Lydia thought it would be fun for him to surprise her. Hindsight is 20-20 and she now realizes, as she stands indecisive before her open closet clad only in her bottle green underwear, that it was a big mistake. His only clue was not to dress fancy, but what exactly does that mean? She is always fancy. Lydia Martin hasn’t left her house looking anything less than fabulous since she turned thirteen. If he expects her to put on a pair of jeans and a sweater for their first date he’s quite mistaken.

She doesn’t even _own_ jeans.

A little black dress catches her eye and she pulls it out of the closet, brushing a hand over the fabric. She almost gave it away the last time she cleaned her closet because she didn’t think she’d ever actually wear it. It’s really quite simple. The material stretches hugging her every curve and the floral lace looked so delicate against her fair skin when she first tried it on she felt it was tattooed on her. But the open back, revealing the expanse of her column between her shoulder blades and bellow the curve of her waist, was what first caught her eye, and why ultimately she decided never to wear it. The scars Peter left her with are red and ugly and the dress does nothing to conceal them. She doesn’t want people to look at them and pity her.

With a sigh she puts it back, gently. She’s not ready to wear it or give up on it completely. Some day maybe she’ll make her peace with her disfigurement and flaunt it proudly as a badge of honor and survival, but today is not that day.

In the end she selects a navy blue button up dress with short puffy sleeves and elastic waistline. The high low hem actually covers her butt and the scooped neckline teases just about the right amount of cleavage. And the endless row of tinny white buttons will give Stiles easy access.

What? She has her priorities sorted out.

Her nude patent pumps would make her legs look amazing, but he said nothing fancy so Lydia figures heels are a no. Besides, as fantastic as she looks on them, her feet scream when she wears those shoes so she’s not against a night of reprieve. She unearths a pair of beige suede Mary Janes her grandmother gave her last Christmas and slips them on instead.

A knock on the door announces her mother’s entrance (of course she doesn’t wait for _permission_ to come in, what is privacy after all?).

“Oh, honey you look beautiful,” she gushes, wrapping an arm around her as they look at her reflection on the mirror.

“Thanks,” Lydia grins and rests her head in her mom’s shoulder. She’s always been a lot closer to her than her dad, but in the last few months, especially after the divorce was final and her father moved out, her mom has been showering her with a lot more affection and attention that Lydia was used to. And she can tell it’s genuine too, not just a way to get her on her side against her father or anything that sordid. “I’m going out on a date.”

“With Stiles?”

It’s very faint, but Lydia catches the apprehension in her mother’s voice. Her green eyes narrow slightly as she tilts her head to the side to look at her fully. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Karen says, eyes wide and shaking her head in denial. “I just,” a sigh, followed by her lips pursing in a grim line and her hands searching for Lydia’s. “I just want you to be careful, that’s all.”

Lydia rolls her eyes, amused. “Mom, we’re being safe. I promise. I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“What?” Karen frowns. “Oh, sweetie, no! I know you’re responsible,” she chuckles. “You _are_ my daughter after all and I trust you.”

“Then what is it? I thought you liked Stiles,” Lydia inquiries, confused. “You’ve been rooting for him since he came to check up on me after that mountain lion attacked me and Jackson, but now we’re together you always have this look on your face when he’s around…” she shakes her head. “It’s like you’re scared.”

“Because I am,” Karen admits softly. “I’ve seen you get your heart broken so many times, and now you’ve lost Allison and Aiden…” her green eyes, the same eyes Lydia sees every day in the mirror, brim with tears as she grips her shoulders and pulls her into a hug. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Mom,” Lydia swallows around the knot in her throat, warm in her mother’s loving embrace.

“So many strange things happen in this town and Stiles,” Karen gently pulls away, tucking a strand of loose hair behind Lydia’s ear, eyes dropping to the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing, a delicate silver arrow necklace. “You know I adore him. He treats you the way you deserve and he respects you and cares about you. That’s all I for you,” she gives her daughter a watery smile. “But he spent the better part of the last month missing or institutionalized and it _scares_ me.”

Lydia ducks her head. Things would be so much easier if she could just tell her mother the truth, but she doesn’t think she’s ready. Then again, if she knew about all the supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills she might just pack their bags and move them to the other side of the country, and Lydia’s not prepared to deal with that drama.

“Mom, I promise you. Stiles isn’t crazy or anything, he just,” she shrugs, trying to come up with a convincing lie. “He thought he had the same condition his mother died of so he got scared and ran away. But he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere now.” Lydia mentally gives herself a pat on the back. That was astonishingly close to the truth.

Karen nods, gives her an unreadable look. “I hope that’s true with all my heart.”

Her phone lights up with Stiles’ picture, indicating his arrival.

“I have to get going,” Lydia says softly, uncomfortable with the sudden and inexplicable tension around them.

She slips her phone and lip gloss into her ivory purse and slings the chain strap across her chest.

“Don’t forget your jacket,” Karen picks it up from where it sat over the plush comforter and offers it to Lydia with a warm smile. “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” she kisses her mom on the cheek like she does every time and hurries away.

* * *

 

“Seriously Stiles, you’re taking this whole surprise thing too far,” Lydia huffs as she blindly makes her way guided by his steady hand. “Where are you taking me?”

“Telling you would kind of defeat the purpose of blindfolding you don’t you think?”

“Me tripping and breaking my neck would kind of defeat the purpose of having fun on our first date,” she counters, annoyed.

“I’m not gonna let you trip,” sighs testily. “Now, we just have to go up a flight of stairs and we’re there.”

He helps her climb the steps one by one ( _“A_ fire escape _Stiles? Really?”_ ) and after a few torturous minutes during which she was deeply grateful she decided not to wear heels tonight, they make it to the top of the building.

“Okay, I’m gonna take this off now,” he announces.

“Finally.”

Her vision is blurry after being blindfolded since she jumped in the Jeep, all she makes out are hundreds of sparks of light dancing and flashing before her in the night. Lydia blinks a few times, catching her breath when her sight finally clears, all the irritation she was feeling draining away from her.

What would otherwise be an ordinary rooftop has been transformed into an enchanted spot by strings upon strings of white Christmas lights, keeping the shadows at bay with their incessant twinkling. Lydia takes a few steps, gaping, taking in the mismatched garden chairs with pink and light blue ribbons wrapped around the legs and backs and small neat bows flapping in the light night breeze. A pristine white tablecloth covers what appears to be two beer crates turned upside down and pushed together.

There are flowers everywhere, arranged on a number of vases along the edge. They are wildflowers for the most part, white, orange and yellow, except for the ones on the improvised table. Those are roses, blood red and perfect, sitting in an exquisite crystal vase she recognizes from her many visits to the Stilinski house. And right next to them, a pizza box from the best restaurant in town. Above them, entwined with the glittering lights, paper flowers dangle in disarray, and off to the side there’s a collection of pillows of all shapes and sizes and several blankets folded in a neat stack.

“Stiles,” Lydia whispers, breaking her awed silence. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She turns around and twins her fingers behind his nape, playing with the short hairs there. Without the added height of her heels, Stiles towers over her making her feel small and dainty in his arms. She snuggles closer, inhaling his scent – his new aftershave drives her crazy – as the heat of his palms splayed on her hips burns through the fabric of her dress and a familiar beat starts pulsing low in her belly.

He places a kiss on top of her head and Lydia tilts her face up, eyes smiling. “Scott helped me,” Stiles tells her, lips brushing against her forehead. “He even brought the pizza just before we got here so it’d be hot.”

“I’ll have to thank him later,” Lydia stands on her tiptoes, peppers a path of teasing kisses on the line of his neck, savoring every inch of skin beneath her lips. She takes his Adam’s apple between her lips and lightly licks it, smirking wickedly as he swallows, hard, feeling it move against her tongue.

She moves lower, drawing shapes on the tender skin, dipping in the hollow at the base of his throat as her hands slip beneath his flannel shirt and push it off.

“Lydia,” he growls, fingers digging on the soft flesh of her hips. She feels him stir, becoming harder and harder with every flick of her tongue. “We should stop,” he insists feebly, pulling her hips flush against him and stroking her bottom through the flimsy dress.

“Why?” she undulates, cradling his hardness on her lower belly, teeth digging at the base of his neck, suckling.

He groans, trembling. “The food will get cold– ”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be real quick.”

She pulls him down to the pillows, clucking her tongue when he attempts to roll her over to lay on her back beneath him. “I don’t think so,” Lydia straddles his legs, lifts his white t-shirt up and off, licking her lips in anticipation as the defined planes of his chest are revealed to her.

She pushes him back and scoots until she’s right on top of his crotch, teasingly pressing against him, feeling his hardness through his jeans scraping the tender skin of her inner thighs and lace clad pussy, stoking the fire inside her.

She takes her time exploring every inch of him, the soft groans and growls he gives off spurring her on. She teases the small, dark nubs of his nipples, marveled with how different they are from her own, pinching and pulling, licking and biting, as Stiles’ grip of her hips becomes more and more bruising. She wouldn’t be surprised if she found blue digits dusted across her hips and ass tomorrow, and in fact the idea sends a bolt of excitement straight to her pussy.

Giving a rest to Stiles poor tortured nipples (they are quite red and puffy, Lydia smugly observes, and he whimpers at the slightest touch after all the attention she paid on them), she peppers open mouthed, wet kisses on his chest, savoring the slightly salty taste of his skin. She follows the trail of his moles from his neck to his cheek, stopping on the way to nibble on his earlobe, and then breathing right over his lips, pulling back with a chuckle when he attempts to kiss her and pecking him on the nose instead to his immense aggravation.

“You’re so mean,” Stiles groans, slipping his hands beneath her skirt and looping his fingers on the thin elastic of her panties, pulling it away from her skin and releasing it.

Lydia jumps against him with a surprised yelp when the elastic connects with her with a sting. “Stiles!” the abrupt movement makes her bump her clit against his zipper, turning her initially outraged gasp into a mewl of pleasure.

“Hurry up,” his deft fingers now trace the underside of her ass, moving aside her thong and slipping the tips into her moist center from behind.

Lydia sips upright and scoots back until the impressive tent in his pants is right between her open thighs, instantly missing the friction but smirking as she watches Stiles’ eyes light up to a clear amber color, staring at her as if bewitched while she teasingly pops one button after another until she slips off the dress completely.

She moves to unhook her bra, but Stiles suddenly sits up, looping his arm around her waist to hold her in place.

“Leave it,” he insists, mapping the soft skin of her cleavage with maddening chaste kisses. He takes her right nipple between his lips, wetting the lace with his tongue until the fabric is completely drenched and grating the sensitive peak. He nibbles on it, and with an exquisite shudder Lydia realizes he’s gonna put her through the same torment she bestowed upon him moments before.

After he’s sufficiently pleased with his work on that nipple, Stiles blows cool air right on it, and Lydia’s head falls back with a throaty moan as the little point hardens even more, rasping against the lace and sending shivers of sensation down her spine.

Then he moves to her other breast and Lydia nearly comes from the added stimulation.

Stiles fishes a condom from his back pocket and silently hand the foil packet to her, smirking.

She takes it with confidence, holding it between her lips as her fingers make quick work of his jeans, releasing his stiff cock. Lydia strokes him, rubbing her thumb over the bulbous head where a drop of precum glistens, remembering how good he tasted when she took him in her mouth, the heavy weight of his cock against her tongue. She longs to taste him again, but she _needs_ him inside her right now.

She expertly tears open the packet under Stiles heated gaze and rolls the condom on his length. She kneels up and Stiles pushes her thong aside, leaving her pussy unbarred to his entrance. Lydia lowers herself down on him, slowly, savoring the feel of her walls stretching to accommodate his size and the glorious fullness that follows.

They groan in unison when she finally takes the last inch inside her. Stiles wraps his arms around her tightly, buries his face on her hair, inhaling deeply, as Lydia shakes uncontrollably on the verge of climax. She rocks against him, the open flaps of his jeans burning the crevices of her thighs with her every move and the drenched lace of her panties rubbing against her clit, providing amazing friction.

Her head falls to the nook between his neck and shoulder, nails digging on his back and peeling the skin off. Stiles hands move to cup the round globes of her ass, lifting her and lowering her on him as he whispers incoherent encouragements on her ear.

Lydia bites down on his shoulder, muffling her screams as she her orgasm washes through her in pulsing waves.

Her mind is completely white. The only thing she registers is the unyielding presence deep inside her, thrusting up erratically, and Stiles arms anchoring her, never letting her go, his breath hot against her skin, and finally, finally, the tightening of his muscles and the silent groan he bites back as his cock swells and pulses his release.

They collapse on the pillows, panting, still joined but lax and completely drained, feeling the world spinning drunkenly around them, until the cool breeze forces them to move. Lydia whimpers as Stiles slips out of her, her sensitive flesh protesting his withdrawal. He comes back a moment later, having taken care of the condom and pulling a soft blanket over them, snuggles her close and plants a lazy kiss upon her lips.

Lydia smiles contentedly, counting the moles on his cheek, the paper flowers above them, and even the stars far beyond.

“This was the perfect date,” she whispers, her heart doing somersaults at the faint blush that colors Stiles cheeks and the accomplished, shy little smile curling his lips under the dancing glow of the flickering Christmas lights.

She brushes a kiss over his rapidly beating heart before shutting her tired eyes, the post-coital lethargy demanding a nap cuddled on the arms of the boy she’s pretty sure she loves.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I write this FOR YOU I love hearing your input and ideas XD


End file.
